


A New Beginning

by NDKiwi



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 23:32:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NDKiwi/pseuds/NDKiwi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SO the assignment in my Poetry Workshop was 'Erotic Poetry'.  This is the first place i went to!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Beginning

Steam envelopes my senses,  
pouring from the  
gaping door like the  
bubbles on the dance floor.  
I slink into the  
damp room, softly  
shutting the solid wood behind  
me. My eyes blink in the  
mist as the simple strains of  
your monotone, off-key voice butchers  
Lady GaGa and my heart  
swells in my chest  
threatening to suffocate  
me in the comfort of my  
own love. 

A pile of clothes  
pool at my feet;  
trousers, t-shirt, pants  
discarded. The stink of  
stale smoke, sweat, vodka  
cling to my inky curls and I  
shake my heat to  
loosen my muscles as I  
quietly ghost up to the clouded  
glass that separates us. I  
grip the handle tight and tug it  
open, slipping silently in  
behind you and under the  
searing rainfall and  
sigh, content.

You swivel to face me,  
slipping, surprise painted on your  
sun kissed face as my arms  
fling out to catch you. A smirk  
quirks at the corner of your  
thin mouth and I run a  
cool, calloused thumb  
along your chapped lips,  
following it with a tender  
press of my trembling lips,  
cutting off the questions I  
see rising in your soft  
lapis eyes. My long  
digits reach up to  
rake through sandy  
close cropped locks  
sprinkling droplets against the  
emerald tiles. I wrap  
my scarred palm around  
your nape, drawing you  
ever closer.

Your compact frame  
melts into mine, all  
angles and edges, and  
we become one. Small,  
rough hands tangle in my hair,  
scratching my sensitive scalp,  
sending shivers, in  
spite of the warmth  
surrounding us, quaking along my  
too prominent spine. A moan  
breaks the reverie. Did it come  
from you or did it come from me?  
Both of us is the most likely answer and  
I swallow your breath, filling my  
lungs with your life. My tongue  
explores the contours of your teeth and  
palate and I taste tea, honey, and,  
oddly, cherries. It will forever be  
known to me as your  
unique bouquet.

As we explore the contours of  
each other, the need for  
air finally prevails and we  
break reluctantly apart, slick  
foreheads pressed together,  
panting, chests heaving.  
You let my fingers dance  
over the puckered skin of your  
scar, knowing I need to  
catalog every detail so  
that it can be easily  
referenced at a later  
time. My head dips of  
its own accord and my  
tongue darts out to trace the  
rough edges of the gnarled  
bundle of skin. You inhale  
sharply as I take the skin  
between sharp teeth and  
worry at it, lave it, kiss it,  
mark it as my own. I look  
up through dark lashes and  
heavily lidded eyes. You  
return the gaze and I  
lift my head back up to  
nuzzle noses, Eskimo like,  
as you begin your  
own explorations. 

Shaking hands flicker  
along ribs pronounced from  
far too few meals and  
settle on hips that jut  
through my alabaster skin,  
thumbs rubbing calming  
circles over discolored patches.  
Murmurs of endearment and  
encouragement drip from your  
throat as my hands  
mirror your cautious  
path and draw undecipherable  
sigils on every patch I  
touch. Tonight had been  
too close, too scary. My  
brain tells me I almost  
lost you, again. I can’t let  
you go. Not now, not ever.  
I know what I  
want but fear gives  
me cause for pause because,  
after all, is it what  
you want?

I implore you with  
lust and fear filled orbs,  
unasked questions float  
around us, pulling all  
air from the five foot by  
three foot box that holds  
us. Your answer is  
immediate, terrifying, exhilarating.  
Pulling me in close you  
reach behind me to  
twist the cooled water  
off with a whine of  
nearly century old pipes and  
you nearly growl in my  
sensitive ear, “Yes. Oh  
gods, yes.” 

Twining fingers together  
you yank me from the  
stall, cocooning me in a  
plush, dry, warm towel and  
lead me towards the  
bedroom. My eyes  
widen as I see the four  
poster and you shush me,  
cupping my cheek. You  
always seem to know  
what I need and you  
purr, “This is new to  
me, too. We will just  
learn it together.” Reaching  
up on tip toes you kiss the  
tip of my nose. “Just you  
and I.”


End file.
